


Barn Dance

by randi2204



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randi2204/pseuds/randi2204
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris rides out to the Connolly place to meet up with Sarah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Barn Dance

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** They belong to MGM, Mirisch and Trilogy, not me.

Chris pulled up some ways out of sight of the Connolly’s house and dismounted.  The sun was close to set, but he could still see the big, shadowed shape of the barn, just a few hundred feet from the house.  He stood for a moment, gaze flicking from the glowing windows of the house to the darkened barn.

 

_“Meet me in the barn tonight,”_ Sarah had whispered as she walked past him in town, the brush of her hand against his the only contact they’d had in a week.  He would have liked to take hold of her hand, twine their fingers together like he had at the church picnic and watch her smile shine like the sun, but she’d been under the watchful eye of her mama the whole time, and that fleeting touch wasn’t enough but had to be.

 

Sneaking around like this… well, he’d known Buck long enough to know that this was as likely a way to get shot at as anything else.  Hell, that was why they’d had to leave the last town in such a hurry, and Chris would still be sore at Buck for that if he hadn’t met Sarah.

 

He looped his reins over a nearby tree branch and began to sneak closer, dividing his attention between the brightly lit house, the darkening shadow of the barn and the uneven ground threatening to trip him up every second.

 

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he reached the weathered boards of the barn, despite being so close to the house that he was _sure_ ol’ Hank would hear it.

 

Hank didn’t want him anywhere near Sarah and that was a fact.  That was why her mama had been keeping a sharp eye on her in town, why he was sneaking into the barn and hoping like hell that the door didn’t creak and give him away as he pushed it open.

 

The barn was snug and warm inside, dark, strong with the smell of hay and animals.  Some of them shifted in their stalls as he slipped inside, setting the straw to rustling, but at least that wouldn’t be heard in the house.  He left the door open slightly to catch what little light remained, and felt around for a lantern.  When he found it, he turned it up just enough to see a foot in front of him as he moved away from the door.

 

He’d taken only a few steps when from behind he heard a voice call, “Chris?”

 

He turned at the sound of that sweet brogue, smiling because he just couldn’t help it.  “Sarah!”  Then she was in his arms, and his heart was full.

 

“I can’t stay long,” she murmured into his shoulder. “Da’s been a bear ever since he saw us out behind the church.”

 

Chris sighed.  “Yeah, I know.”  Then he grinned.  “But it was fun.”

 

“Yes,” she breathed.

 

He ran his hands down her back, just marveling at the feel of her against him, and pressed a kiss beneath her ear.  She sucked in a breath, shivering against him, then pulled away.  It was hard to tell in the dim glow of the lantern, but he thought her cheeks were flushed.

 

“It’s gettin’ back I must be,” she said, accent becoming more pronounced.  “Ma and Da’ll be wonderin’ what happened.”

 

Chris frowned, not wanting their stolen time to come to an end so soon.  For a second, he imagined pulling her after him to his horse and just riding away with her.  Instead, he squeezed her hand then let her go, watching her watch him as she backed out the door. 

 

Before she disappeared into the night, she hesitated.  “Come back tomorrow?”

 

He grinned at her, and even in the dim light thrown by the lantern, it looked to him as though she swayed a bit back toward him.  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

 

She laughed softly and was gone. Chris blew out a breath and turned down the lantern again, then left himself, carefully tugging the door closed. 

 

He waited a time with his horse before riding back to town, until the last light went out inside the house before even mounting.  It was when he caught himself glancing over his shoulder into the darkness and searching for the house he could no longer see that he had to admit he was already looking forward to tomorrow and another chance to have Sarah in his arms.

 

The next evening when Chris pulled open the barn door, the lantern was burning brightly.

 

And Hank Connolly was waiting for him inside, shotgun cradled in his arms.  “Chris Larabee.”

 

Chris stopped, staring at the gun, heart suddenly pounding in his chest.  “I don’t think there’s any need for that.”

 

“That so?” Hank thumbed back the hammers.  The sound was hardly muffled at all by the hay and animals, and Chris raised his hands away from his sides a little.  “You been interferin’ with my daughter and you don’t think there’s a _need_ for this?”

 

“I haven’t…”

 

“You haven’t?” Hank lifted the shotgun to his shoulder.  “Why’n hell are you in my barn then?  After dark?  You expectin’ a roll in the hay, Chris Larabee? From _my daughter?_ ”

 

“No sir, I just…”

 

“You ain’t out the door by the time I count three, you’re gonna be breathin’ through a damn lot of new holes.” He took aim.  “One…”

 

“But we…”

 

“Two…” Hank’s fingers tightened on the trigger.

 

Trying to talk to the man, Chris realized, was only going to get him shot. He ducked back out the door just as Hank started to say “Three.”

 

The first barrel unloaded against the barn wall and out the door past Chris, where he’d ducked to the side, just in case Hank was serious.  _Guess he was,_ Chris couldn’t help but think, and stumbled as he started running for his horse.

 

“And don’t you come back, Chris Larabee!” Hank shouted behind him.  The shotgun roared again, and there must have been a short load of powder in that shell, because the buckshot peppered against his back, stinging a little through his jacket, but doing little more.

 

Later, back in the room he and Buck shared in the boarding house, Chris took a close look at the back of his jacket.  There were some pellets embedded in the heavy fabric, but when he pulled them out, dropping them on a tin plate to keep them together, they didn’t clatter there like buckshot, and a curiously salty odor clung to his fingers.  He popped one finger into his mouth then stared at the little pile of pellets in surprise.

 

_Rock salt._   Slowly, Chris grinned.  Not buckshot.  He was still grinning about it hours later when Buck finally dragged himself in.

 

Maybe Hank liked him after all.

 

***

June 20, 2012

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear [DichotomyStudios](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios/pseuds/DichotomyStudios) in response to the prompt _Chris/Sarah, the story behind Hank shooting Chris with rock salt_.


End file.
